The Squandered

by Putnam, David;

  I hated it when he was right.

  Noble’s head lolled to the side; his eyes rolled until only the whites showed.

  The elevator dinged. The door opened. Marie pushed the wheelchair out, and Mack and I followed back out into the free world, the one still looking to put us back in the cage.

  I didn’t like the cuffs, not one damn bit.

  Out in the parking lot, my young nephew Bruno pulled up in an ambulance, one misappropriated that would go right back where it came from as soon as we finished with it. We didn’t bother with taking out the gurney. We opened the rear doors, helped Noble in, climbed in behind him, and took off. I couldn’t believe the caper came off that easily. Marie gently eased Noble down on the gurney. The man still possessed bulk, jailhouse muscle from working the weight piles and doing push-ups every day in the slam. What else did one do? I’d been there, did two years of my own.

  Marie put on latex gloves and went to work on my brother. Bruno kept looking back, trying to see what was going on. “Boy, pay attention to your driving or you’re going to pile us up,” I said.

  He shot me a scowl, held it for a long moment to prove a point, then went back to steering the ambulance. I spun in my seat so my cuffed hands faced Mack, who sat next to me. He didn’t move.

  “Hey, come on man, I hate these things.”

  He grinned and looked at Marie, who’d paused to watch. Marie smiled and said to me, “Ah, I guess you shouldn’t have told me about the ring, huh?”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  WE DROVE IN and out of traffic, watching for a tail, and then into the back parking areas of two hospitals. Each time, we backed into the ER loading docks to mix with the other ambulances. Both times we let Mack off on foot, wearing his t-shirt and uniform pants, to lurk in the parking lot and again checked for a tail. Satisfied, we drove to our prearranged fleabag motel, Le Ménage, on a side street off Sunset Boulevard. The bed covers hung off the caved-in mattresses, their colors faded and the material worn. The cheap owners had spray painted the carpet blue, the over-spray evident on the baseboards. The tacky paint made the carpet crunch underfoot. Still, the place looked like the Taj Mahal compared to an eight-by-eight prison cell with bars.

  Noble had used every bit of his strength to make his break from a prison and jail system that had been a part of his life for the last twenty-five years. Now he lay asleep or unconscious. I didn’t know which and could only hope he hadn’t drifted into a coma.

  Either way, I couldn’t talk with him, but wanted to, needed to in the worst way.

  “It’s best for him to sleep right now,” Marie said as she tinkered with the IV she’d started.

  “Is it just sleep?” young Bruno asked.

  “Yes.” Marie put her hand on my nephew’s shoulder. “He’s going to be fine. He just needs some time for his body to heal. Why don’t you boys take the ambulance back and get something to eat?”

  “I’m not leaving you alone,” I said. “Not until we’re safely back home.”

  “Come on, kid,” Mack said. “Let’s go.”

  My nephew sat at Noble’s side, staring at his face and holding his hand. Bruno was seeing his dad for the first time out in the open, free and not restricted by bars or reinforced glass. It must’ve been a strange feeling.

  Mack nudged him.

  “Huh?”

  “Come on, kid, let’s take the ambulance back.”

  “Oh, yeah, right, sure.”

  They left. The room went quiet. I sat next to Marie on the bed and held her hand. “You okay?” I asked.

  “Whatta you mean?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  She tried to hold my gaze but then looked away. “I’m fine. I just need to work through it. You buggin’ me about it all the time’s not gonna help.” She turned back, put her warm hand on my face. “Sorry, didn’t mean to snap like that. Just give me a little room, and I’ll be fine, really. Not a big deal.”

  “It is too a big deal. It’s never gonna happen again. Take my word on that. No one’s gonna get close enough to hurt you ever again.”

  I kissed her. And kissed her some more. I eased her back on the bed. I hugged her tight. I never wanted to let her go. She sensed my need and clung to me, held on, her fingers dug into my back as the kiss turned more intense.

  Noble’s voice croaked, “Hey, I’m laying right here. Can you resist your animal instincts just this once? Or at least take it into the bathroom.”

  Marie and I sat bolt upright. Marie went over to him, took up his wrist, and checked his pulse.

  I took his other hand and held it. “Good to see you, little bro. Thought I lost you back there in that jail hallway. Thank you for that. I owe you big.”

  Marie said, “Yes, thank you for saving my lughead husband.”

  “Can I get some water here? I’m parched. And you don’t owe me a thing. You just being here is all I could ever ask for.” His voice clogged up a little at the end and his eyes filled with tears.

  “I’ll get that water.” I swiped at my eyes on the way to the bathroom. I wasn’t ready for such strong emotions. I hadn’t thought of Noble for years, had put him out of my head for good when I never should have. What a fool I’d been.

  Behind me, Marie asked, “I don’t know if you can have any water orally yet. What did the surgeon tell you? Did he say the intestines were compromised?”

  “I think I’m okay with water. They gave me some in the ward before I jammed out of there.”

  I came back with the water. Marie took it from me. “Here,” she said, “help me sit him up. I wish we had his medical chart. I’m flying blind without it.”

  We scooted him up. He groaned and grunted. I held him forward while she stuffed some pillows behind him. “There.” She took up the water and put it to his lips. He reached for the glass. “I’m feelin’ better now. I can do it.”

  He started to drink and kept going. Marie put her hand on his and stopped him. “That’s enough for now. If you throw it up, that action is a little too violent for you right now. The movement could pull your sutures loose. I don’t know what they repaired on the inside. You can have some more in a few minutes, okay?”

  He nodded. “You a doc or something?” He looked at me. “You got yourself a doctor, big brother?”

  “I’m not a doctor, I’m a physician’s assistant. And your brother hasn’t ‘got’ anything. We’re husband and wife, we’re partners and good friends.”

  “Same damn thing. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a doc.”

  Oddly, I glowed with pride over my brother’s words, and I’d never been like that toward him before. Well, maybe a little.

  “I got a bone to pick with you, little brother,” I said.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  HE LOOKED AT the nightstand and the two copies of his book. A book I hoped stayed classified as nonfiction and didn’t turn out to be a novel. He smiled, showing all his teeth. “You found my book. Ain’t it somethin’? I mean, no way did I think anyone would want to read that sorry excuse for the written word. Amazing, ain’t it?”

  “Why didn’t you tell us about the book when we came to visit you?”

  “You have time to read it yet? Whatta ya think?”

  “I think it could easily be a movie,” Marie said.

  “Oh, don’t do that,” I said. “His head is large enough as it is.”

  “You read it, Bruno?”

  “Not all of it, not yet. I’ve been a little busy pullin’ your cookies outta the fire.”

  “And I can’t thank you enough for that, truly. Did they make contact with you or Little Bruno about my grandbabies?”

  “Did you write that book just to stir all of this up?” I asked. “Because it worked.”

  “You read a lot of the book, I can tell. What about my grandbabies?”

  “Is it bullshit or is it true?” I asked. “I mean the thing about the shooting, the one at Wilmington and Greenleaf? I was working the streets back then. That was our area, and
I don’t remember any calls or bodies hitting the ground.”

  “Can I have some more water, please?”

  Marie gave him the water but held the glass and limited his intake.

  “I have a number,” I said, “to call when we’re ready to make the trade for your grandchildren. Now tell me about Wilmington and Greenleaf.”

  “Take it easy, Bruno.” Marie said.

  “Yeah, listen to your wife. Take it easy, Bruno.”

  “Noble?”

  “Okay, okay. Yes, it’s all true. I did write the book to spark some interest to help get me the hell outta the can. I can’t begin to tell you how tired I am of livin’ that prison life.” His expression turned grim, the smile gone. “You gotta believe me, though, I had no idea someone would snatch my grandbabies. If I had, I wouldn’t of done it. You believe me, right, Bruno? You believe me, right?”

  I really wanted to believe him. I did. But couldn’t, not with his priors for lying. I squeezed his hand. “Of course I do.”

  “Thank you for that. It was a dumb move, like you said. What did I expect was gonna happen? Huh? What a dumb-assed move.”

  “Why now, brother? Why after all this time did you choose this moment in your life to do this?”

  “I told ya, I got tired of bein’ locked down.”

  “So you decide to write a book?” Marie asked. “That doesn’t make any sense at all.”

  “I know, it’s kinda crazy, me of all people. Crazy, huh, Bruno?”

  “Yeah, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. So you don’t have the diamonds or the dope?”

  “Come on, man, I told you, it happened just like in the book. We shot the hell outta that Eldo and it drove off. It just drove off into the night like some kinda stupid, freaky horror movie. Just gone. Poof.”

  I shook my head. “How could anyone live through that kind of barrage, the way you described it?”

  “I know, huh? It was really something. I couldn’t believe it the way that car was shot to hell. It looked like the Bonnie and Clyde car. I’m not kiddin’ either.”

  “You didn’t follow the Eldorado?”

  “No, I didn’t say it in the book, but we had to get Alpo to the doc, you know, Grover Porter, that guy who lived in that broken-down library at Century and Bullis. The guy who fixed up Sasha after Papa beat the hell outta her.”

  Noble pointed to his pelvic area on the right side. “Alpo took one right here and right here.” He moved his finger up higher indicating his right abdomen. “Didn’t think he’d make it. Ol’ Grover worked one of his miracles.”

  “You never heard on the street what happened to Del or Papa Dee?”

  He shook his head. “Like I said, that car was shot to hell, and they shouldn’t have walked away from it but—”

  “But what? Spill it, Noble.”

  “Well, they didn’t survive, at least Del didn’t. Del drove off and crashed a little while later, probably not five minutes after the shooting. Made it down to LAPD’s Harbor district. Head-on right into a telephone pole, sheared the mother off at sixty-plus miles per hour.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked as my mind shot out ahead of him, trying to figure what had changed all these years later for him to uncover that new piece of information. And how he came by it.

  “I didn’t find that out, that part of this whole screwed-up mess, until recently. I mean, I could’ve used the information for the book. I mean that shit’s really important. Right now that part of the story in the book just hangs out there without any type of conclusion. And you gotta have a conclusion, my editor said. But I told her no, no, this is the way it happened and it’s the way it’s gonna be.”

  “How did you find out?” I asked. “How’d you just now find out about the crash?

  “Can you believe it, that fat bastard Papa Dee just walked away from that Eldo? He left his friend Del behind, left him right there lying across the seat to bleed out.”

  “Noble, tell me. Quit avoiding the question. What do you mean you found out last week? What happened?”

  He paused, looked at Marie, then back at me. “The District Attorney investigators came into the jail and booked me for murder. Add charged me for 187.”

  Now it made sense, the part about the new information at least. But something still didn’t quite sound right, and I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “For murder?” Marie said. “What murder?”

  I held up the book, A Noble Sacrifice. “Noble, here, ratted himself out by writing a confession. There isn’t any statute of limitations on murder. They’re going after him for the murder of Delbert Fawlkes.”

  Noble nodded. “Yeah, and that ain’t right.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  MARIE’S MOUTH DROPPED open. “They can’t do that, can they? You said in your book you didn’t pull the trigger, that you couldn’t.”

  “Felony murder rule,” I said. “If someone dies during the commission of a felony, doesn’t matter if you pulled the trigger, crashed the car, or slipped the knife between a guy’s ribs. If you so much as drive the getaway car, it’s still considered murder.”

  Noble nodded his agreement. “And it doesn’t matter if the guy’s a POS, non-taxpaying asshole like Del or Papa Dee, either.”

  “POS?” Marie asked.

  “Watch your mouth, little brother,” I said to Noble. I told Marie, “It means piece of shit.”

  “So,” I said, “you think Papa Dee crawled off and died?”

  “No,” Marie answered for Noble. “Noble thinks Papa fled to Costa Rica, remember? We had this conversation, old man.” She smiled at me, that cutesy smart-assed one she liked to flash when she wanted to goad me a little in a friendly, spousal way.

  “That’s right,” Noble said after a sip of water. “When I wrote the book, at that time I thought, by some miracle or the grace of the devil, himself, they somehow both escaped. I didn’t want them dead. Hurt bad, maybe, but not dead. I thought I did, but found I didn’t much have the stomach for it. Not in cold blood, not in ambush like the one we’d set up.

  “I didn’t know Del died until the DA filed that 187 on me. Not that I cared as far as a new case was concerned. I wasn’t ever gettin’ out. Go ahead, I told ’em, pile up those years. Twenty-five more years on top of life, what did it matter? In prison, you only ever do two days, the day you go in and the day you get out. Only they’d slated me for never having that second day. Ever.”

  “That’s why you got that job in the Stop and Go,” I said. “Because you thought the threat had passed and you wanted to show Sasha you could be an everyday Joe and not a dope-dealing criminal.”

  He looked at me, his expression serious. “Yes, that’s exactly right. Without the diamonds or the dope, I needed a working stiff’s kinda job to support us.” He drank some more water.

  “Dad’s a working stiff. He did all right.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Now Noble’s motivation made more sense. But at the same time, it heaped more guilt on top of the pile already smothering me. Further confirmation that those three gangsters who came into the store hadn’t gone there to rob him. They went there to fulfill the contract put on the street by Papa Dee, and at the time they just hadn’t yet gotten the word that Papa Dee went belly up. Or they went there to coerce the location of the diamonds and dope out of Noble. Diamonds and dope he didn’t have.

  “If you didn’t have the stomach for it, little brother,” I said, “you sure did a good job going to guns on those three outside the Stop and Go.”

  “That was different.” His eyes went wide a little, and he sat forward as much as his wounded body allowed. “Come on, man, you of all people can see that. Those three in the store, they came for me. I didn’t have a choice. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not tryin’ ta justify taking a life. I mean I’m not tryin’ ta throw a good excuse at you all, ’cause there ain’t one. I’ll tell ya the truth, what went through my mind. At the time, all I could think about was the ‘what if.’ W
hat if these three assholes came up on me as I walked down the street with my girl? Would Sasha ever be safe with me? Right at that moment I realized the plain and simple truth. No. She’d never be safe with me. It hurt, I’m tellin’ ya, boy did it hurt. And I turned mad over it. Just like that—” he snapped his fingers “—that quick. And then I wasn’t thinkin’ straight. I’ll admit it right here to you.

  “Sure, I shot their sorry asses, and I regret the day that I did, but truth be told, I’d do it all over again. If pushed in that same corner like that, I’d do it. They were armed and came for me.”

  He shook his head and took a long breath. “The irony of it is, I got into the life to get close to Sasha, and that one stupid decision ended up being what pushed her farther away. Hell, she was safer with me bein’ in prison than if I was out.”

  “Did she believe that?” Marie asked.

  “No. My incarceration tore her up. And it tore me up just watchin’ her live with it.”

  His last few words diffused into a blur as that night when I confronted Noble at the counter in that Stop and Go came flooding back on me hard and fast.

  We called them Stop and Robs, a violent and dangerous job, especially on graveyard shift. He’d taken that job for gallant reasons. Why had I not seen it?

  The sights and smells returned in distinct colors and scents in only the way post-traumatic stress can do for you.

  The look in his eyes.

  That horrible look of betrayal in his eyes. My betrayal.

  The event hadn’t been physically traumatic to me, but I guess when you pistol-whip your own brother and then arrest him, send him on his way to a lifetime in prison, that qualifies and moves the emotional stress to the top of the scale. That night, he shot at all three and hit two, shot them in the back. Later, both of them, the one in the backseat and the one in the front with his leg blown off, died.